A Foot Massage Earned is a Foot Massage Owed
by Writing for Boots
Summary: Rory finally gives Logan the foot massage he earned for saving the Yale Daily News


"Honey, I'm home!" Rory called out as she walked into Logan's loft.

"Hey, Ace." Logan's voice drifted from the couch.

"Hope you don't mind that I used the key you gave me. I wasn't sure if I should or if I should knock."

Logan laughed. "That's the whole reason I gave it to you. Feel free to use it any time."

"Oh trust me I will." Rory hung up her coat and dropped her laptop on the table. "Sorry I'm so late. Tensions are still pretty high in the newsroom, but I think a full-blown mutiny has quelled for now. Who knew I mean we're still one Paris tirade away from a 'Do You Hear the People Sing' moment, so it could still go south tomorrow. But I think we should take the victories where we can get them."

"Sounds like you had a productive day," Logan said, stifling a yawn. He sat up and tossed the book he was reading onto the coffee table.

She leaned down and kissed him softly. "Yup. You could say that. I'm thinking of writing the great American novel tomorrow, or curing cancer, or discovering a whole new species of some cute and fuzzy animal. I haven't decided yet." She paused, taking in Logan's attire. "Are you in your in your pajamas?"

He was wearing a pair of black flannel bottoms, that Yale t-shirt she always loved on him because it was super soft from too many washings, and a pair old socks he only wore around the loft.

"Can't a man lounge around in comfort on his very own couch? What is the world coming to?" His tone was light, but she could hear the exhaustion underneath it.

"Seriously, Logan? It's not even seven yet." She glanced over at the nearly empty mug of tea with bag still in it and the empty cereal bowl sitting on the coffee table. "And you're drinking hot tea. _And_ had cereal for dinner. Do you feel okay? Are you sick?"

She reached over to feel his forehead.

"Ace, come on. I feel fine."

Logan tried to swat her hand away, but Rory was quicker. She hummed to herself as she felt his forehead then his cheeks.

"Well you don't feel warm." She ignored his eye roll and crossed her arms. "And don't tell me you feel fine when you're on the couch in your pajamas before seven. So spill."

Logan took her hands in his. "I'm fine. I'm not sick. Just really tired."

"Really tired is not fine. Actually, it's pretty far from fine."

He leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss. He rested his forehead against hers.

"It was a long day. I had a huge test in Econ and a ten-page paper due in the class right after. My art history study group went ridiculously long, because that girl with the really annoying voice kept asking the same stupid questions over and over. Then, to top it all off, my dad called to ream me out for using his name to get the paper out. God only knows how he found that out. He then proceeded to rant for a solid twenty minutes about how I'm sucking at life or whatever." He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. "By the time I finally dragged my ass home, all I wanted was to crash out on the couch with some Lucky Charms, a cup of Earl Grey, and a little Bret Easton Ellis."

Logan finished with a heavy sigh and fell back onto the couch. He flung his arm over his eyes.

Rory watched him for a moment. She hated seeing him so exhausted and stressed out. He really needed to relax and unwind before he really made himself sick.

An idea popped into her head. She tugged on his legs until his feet were in her lap. Logan peeked out at her from under his arm.

"Uh, Ace? What are you doing?"

"Well," Rory started as she scooped up a sock-covered foot. "I recall correctly someone kind of single-handedly saved the Yale Daily News last night with his quick thinking, and I think he deserves a reward. I think I remember something about a foot massage."

Logan let his arm fall to his stomach and raised an eyebrow. "So all that stuff about the love of journalism and hard work was what?"

"Hey, you earned your keep," she said. She started applying gentle pressure to the sole of his right foot. "And I think you deserve a little reward for a job well done."

"You're going soft on me, Ace." He let out a sigh as she worked on the ball of his foot. "Are you staying here tonight?"

"If you don't mind. Paris and Doyle were talking about having a karaoke night, and I'm not sure I won't kill them ten minutes into their rendition of 'Grease.'"

"'Grease'?"

"They do the entire musical."

Logan cringed. "Yikes. Well, feel free to hide out here as long as you li-…" His words trailed off into a moan as Rory's attentive fingers a particularly sensitive spot. "God, Ace."

Rory couldn't help but feel pleased with herself as Logan came undone under her careful touch. She snaked her hand up his pant leg and caressed his solid calf muscle. "I aim to please."

Logan only moaned again in response. He closed his eyes and arched his back slightly. Rory paused for a moment to switch to his left foot. He whimpered at the loss of contact.

Rory couldn't help but laugh. "I think you're enjoying this a little too much, Mister."

"That's because you're amazing, Ace."

"I take it you feel much more relaxed."

Logan purred and stretched like a cat in the middle of a belly rub. "So, relaxed I don't think I want to move ever again." He yawned and scrubbed hand over his face.

"I think someone could use a nap."

Logan fixed her with his best puppy dog eyes. "How about a movie and some couch cuddling?"

"Why Mr. Huntzberger I thought you'd never ask." She laid down next to him and snuggled into his chest. "Although, I think Colin and Finn would get take great pleasure in your use of the term couch cuddling. I mean the blackmailing options are endless."

"Could I possibly buy your silence with your choice of the movie?"

"Even if it's a cheesy rom-com?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Ace."

Rory reached over and grabbed the remote. She flipped through the channels until she found _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. As the score played softly while Audrey Hepburn nibbled on her pastry, Logan bent down and kissed the to of her head.

"Thanks, Ace," he whispered. "I really mean it."

Rory just smiled. "Anytime."


End file.
